


The Darkness of Reality

by Browa123



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Because I love those fics, I needed one for Ouma, Multi, Poor Ouma is lonely, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, The Virtual Reality AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9859064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Browa123/pseuds/Browa123
Summary: MASSIVE SPOILER WARNING FOR CHAPTER 5(Inspired by "The Friends We Used To Know" series by ikuzonos)Not a borrower DR fic for once, but one about the virtual reality AU. This contains self harm, so be warned....Ouma wakes up. He thinks it would be better off if he hadn't.





	1. Unwanted Awakening

The last thing he sees is the press coming down on top of him, Momota giving a glare from the panel, as the cracking of his bones and sharp pain just barely beats the poison in his system, and he grins.

...

Colors meld together, as the numbness slowly begins to tingle. He reaches out, hand hitting the top of whatever he was enclosed in. He subtly ran his fingers across it, taking in the feeling of the top of the container. It was better than the numbness surrounding the rest of him. He has to refocus himself a bit more, and running his pale hand across his small prison helped. He hears voices outside, unfamiliar and noisy, and he just wants them to shut up, because he has a headache. The top of his container is slowly released and more color melds together. Many people in white lab coats surround him, and hold him down, but he doesn't struggle. The confused looks they had suggested he wasn't the first to awaken, but they were expecting for him to put up a fight. He remained calm as the lab coat people sat him upright.

"Kokichi Ouma, can you hear us?" One asks. "Of course I can, why wouldn't I?" He responds dully. "Wonderful, you're already showing much more control than anyone else!" Cheers another. Yet again, his suspicions were correct. They assessed him and helped him to his feet. "If your recovery continues this smoothly, you should be allowed visitors tommorow!" A lab coated doctor decided. Visitors, huh? Wouldn't they have abandoned him by now? Who would want to visit him, after what he did? He released a bitter laugh. The doctors in the lab coats support him down the hall, and restrain him to a hospital bed for safety. Outside his room, he hears them mumbling about how he should have never woken up.

He agrees with them.

...

It's been three days now. He sits on the bed, a barred window on the left of it. There is a vase of flowers that came with the room, the majority being of a purple variety. He wonders if any of them are poisonous. No, they wouldn't be. He's on suicide watch, they wouldn't let him get away with it that easily. He had allowed visitors, but not one person gave his door a passing glance. He requested his food be brought to him, rather than leaving and seeing all of their disgusted, spiteful and betrayed looks all at once, because he knew that was what he was going to get. He knew they hated him, perhaps even more than the mastermind. He could never look at them all in the eye again, because all they would see is his lies.

Oh, steak for dinner tonight, and they gave him a proper knife this time. He cut into the hunk of meat and took bites cautiosly. The more he stared at the meat on the plate being sliced and withered away, the more he looked between the knife and his own wrists, wondering about many things. Would the idiot doctors notice? It's not like they cared. He had been comatose for over two years, and nobody gave a shit. Would anyone visit him? Of course not, they hated him, every fiber of his being. He tore into the steak a little more aggressively now. Would he ever be able to find the courage to face them again? His mind is nowhere near finishing dinner now, as the steely blade began leaking the despair out of his arms.

...

It had been a month.

They had taken the knife with dinner that while ago, so instead, he broke the vase on the table to get what he needed. He hid the shards around his room, so they couldn't take away his one relief to all his regrets. He saw Saihara smoking in the hallway one day. He was surprised the detective, even if he could call him one anymore, had the will in him to even walk down the hallway. He turned away from the detective and gave the shard of glass in his hand its due payment for any echo of happiness. The liquid seeped out a minute, before he covered his arms to hide away his new habit before a doctor came with lunch or something.

There was a knock on the door.

Lunch had arrived, even if a little early. He opened the door to accept the meal his only visitor would give him three times a day. "Ouma-kun! You look awful!" Saihara called from the other side of the door. He pulled his sleeve up further to hide his wounds from the detective. He smiled, beside the fact it had to be the fakest grin he'd ever given someone in his life, whichever life his jumbled memories decided on, and greeted Saihara with a peppy tone. "Saihara-chan! It's been so long! What do you want?" He almost lost the fake tone in the end, because he wasn't as good as he used to be. Regardless, Saihara seemed to buy it. "I wanted to visit. I was released from here a while ago, and Kiibo omitted the fact you had woken up," spoke the detective. "Kiibo omitted information on my awakening? I wonder why~?" He sing-songed. "Yeah, I guess. I have to come back here monthly for group therapy, so I decided to stop by," Saihara explained. "Well then, come on in! Saihara-chan is so nice!" He happily called.

He hid his supplies of relief under his bed and used his body to block any stray blood from his activities. Saihara sat on the bed beside him. Silence hung in the air. "The other's are saying you don't go to group therapy. Why is that, don't you want to reconnect?" Saihara asked. He let out a bitter laugh. "My mental state is far better than any of the employees here, Saihara-chan. They don't need me around," he told the detective. Saihara looked him up and down. "You don't leave your room either, is something up? I thought you would go messing around with people again," Saihara reasoned. "Nishishishi! How do you know that me staying here isn't messing with them enough!" He lied. "Besides, if someone wanted to see me, they would have visited, wouldn't they?" He stated, making Saihara look at him in shock. "Thanks for being my first visitor, by the way!" He cheered. Saihara had a look of deep thought on his face.

"Do you want to join me for group therapy?" Asked Saihara. He found himself unable to decline.

...

"Cryptid spotted!"

Momota shouted it when he and Saihara entered. Everyone in the room turned their eyes to him. And he saw it on all of them. Distrust, hatred, anger. He couldn't stay in the room any longer, so he ran back to his.

The glass shard wanted a pay raise.

...

Another month passed.

The stupid doctors couldn't find all of his shards.

...

Another month goes by.

Saihara is still the only visitor.

...

Two months pass

Saihara brings Kiibo, but the A.I in the tablet refused to speak to him.

...

Three months pass.

He considers taking his own life, ready for the ceiling to fall on him again.

...

A week passes.

He takes his last glass shard with him to the shower room late at night.

...

........

..............?

He's been staring at his reflection in the ceiling for an hour.

Again, he had awoken from death, as his arms are heavily bandaged.

He doesn't know who had "saved" him at the last moment, nor does he care.

Maki Harukawa entered his room. He hopes she's there to finish him off like she had sworn to in the game.

She was the one who rescued him.

...

He looks like a mess, his dark hair pulling in every direction, purple highlights bleeding through, if not already faded. He had a checkered scarf on, because he liked how it looks on him, and his arms are still bandaged up to his shoulders. He walks with Saihara and Harukawa at his sides. The group therapy room is still a mess of rainbows and sickly sweet lies. At least half of his were out of kindness. Half of this place's was for money, the other half to be evil. They all turn to look at him again. He wants to fake a smile, but his lips turn the opposite direction. He whimpers and looks at those around him, those he knows hate him, hate his existance, hate the fact that he's here. But he doesn't see hatred this time.

Aside from the bored therapist, he sees a mostly welcoming environment. Sure, they still don't like him, but they don't hate him either. They want to give him a chance. He can see Momota sitting across from him with a small smirk.

"Criptid spotted," he states.

Everyone bursts into laughter.

Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad.


	2. Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to continue with this. Hope you like!

It’s dark, his vision is clouded, and it’s incredibly hard to breathe.

His back and his shoulder burns with pain, and it’s very hard to stand up. He tries his very best to keep his words stable, but he catches a falter now and again. This Lethal Torture Serum stuff hurts, hurts a lot, and part of him regrets not taking even a sip of the antidote. He’s scared, but he’ll never admit it. Go along with the plan, please! He wasn’t going to die losing to Monokuma. He wouldn’t, he refused to. He was going to beat the killing game, even if he had to use plan B. His chest heaves, and he collapses to the floor. Momota grabs his arms and drags him out of the bathroom, his vision blurring and swirling, unidentifiable colors flooding his vision.

Ouma awakens quickly, gasping for breath. His arms are still heavily bandaged up, the window is still barred, and the vase in his room was a plastic one now. Not that he cares. The nightmares of his death still haunt him, and he still wished they were true some days. Every time he lay on his back, all he could feel was Momota’s surprisingly soft jacket under him, and the press machine above him, ready to take his life before the burning in his blood snuffed it out. He still feels his back and shoulder sting on occasion, the one laced with deadly poison more noticeably than the other, and he still feels the dull ache of fire under his skin, making breathing hard more than once. He once collapsed in the middle of one of those awful therapy sessions, while Angie was signing his bandaged arms. All he did was look Harukawa in the eyes, and his breath hitched before he passed out. Ouma still doesn't understand why it was her of all people who saved his life that while ago. Back in the game, surely she would have left him to rot in the bathroom, perhaps with a sigh of "good riddance" as he bled out his meaningless life.

It really was meaningless, wasn't it? Ouma had begun regaining his memories, slowly, day by day, and they got more depressing as time went on. Turns out it was Ouma who was the orphan, not Harukawa. He literally had nobody waiting for him, and he had stumbled into the Dangan Ronpa building looking for a second chance, some prize money to get himself a foothold in the world, and fulfill his dream to become a comedian. The team had surprisingly accepted the sob story orphan, and turned his bare bones backstory into the talent of SHSL Supreme Ruler, with a whole organisation backing him. Ouma learned to accept the real facts, though he was slightly happier with the lair side of himself, and they weren't mixing all too well. For starters, when he began to remember, he couldn't tell the difference between knowing ten supportive members from having no one, and it was driving him nuts, if he wasn't nuts enough already. Then, when everyone had met with their families about six months into his recovery, he was told to stick back because no one was going to be there for him anyway. It wasn't the nicest confession to having no one, but he accepted it. Though, he didn't admit he'd look for the memories of Kokichi Ouma, Super Highschool Level Supreme Ruler and fondly remember the days with DICE. At least it was something. No complaints to having memories of someone having his back, even if it was all fake. Just because he accepted the truth didn't mean he liked it. Guess that's what makes him so drawn to lying. Ouma still requests his meals be brought to him. He prefers to eat in silence. They keep sharp objects pointedly away from him. He asked one day, at group therapy, why they bother keeping a boy with no one to go back to and no one who loves him alive. What they told him still makes his skin crawl.

"You're the fan favorite character for the fifty third season, we can't just let you go!"

He was visibly sickened. People LIKED the asshole persona they gave him in that game?! Some of the things Supreme Ruler Ouma had thought and said still made the current Kokichi a bit mad at himself, and to learn they're using him as a moneymaking asset?! Not even the heaviest and thickest mask out there would hide how offended he looked that day. And then they tried to cover it with, "Oh, I thought you would be more excited to know that people love you and your character," and other crap. They liked Supreme Ruler Kokichi Ouma, the crazy, remorseless liar who threw his authority everywhere and pissed everyone off by messing with class trials, not Kokichi Ouma, the orphan who stumbled into a production studio to get some sort of grip on life. And that's how they would always see him, the crazy liar asshole with supreme power. Hell, he saw it on the people who knew that he wasn't like that with his real memories, because of what he did in the game. Ouma isn't like that anymore, but sometimes he would slip and say something the Supreme Ruler would say, not what Ouma would say, and piss everyone off. He hated it when he did that, honestly. Two very different people live in his head, and his brain can't pick between either, so it just a muddled up version of both, and he was not happy with it.  
__________________________________________

Momota had signed his bandages today. It was after group therapy and Gonta had brought a deck of cards for go fish. They held a tournament and the current match was Ouma vs Saihara. Clearly, the ex-detective had plenty of time to practice, because he was kicking Ouma's ass, at Go Fish no less. Saihara finished metaphorically pounding Ouma into the dirt with his Go Fish skills, when Momota walked up with a bright purple, sparkling marker with Angie's name signed on it. He sat next to Ouma, the two sharing a glance, before the ex-astronaut took the marker and scribbled on his right arm. The result was a shimmery "Kaito Momota was here, and he apologizes for being such a dick toward the guy who saved Harumaki's life" written on his arm. Harukawa looks over at it, and gives an uncaring huff, as Momota wraps an arm around Ouma. "Alright, staring today, you join the bro crew. We'll be doing sit ups in the gym in two hours. Think of it as physiotherapy, and don't be late," Momota told him. Ouma looked back down at the apology written on his arm, considerate for a minute. He goes to Angie and gets a darker shade of sparkly purple marker and a piece of paper.

He doesn't know exactly what brings him to the gym a few hours later. Ouma clutches the note written in dark purple, sparkly ink, but he knows he needs to do this. Momota, Harukawa and Saihara are all already there, waiting for him. Wordlessly, he passes each of them a note, which reads, "I'm sorry for being such a douche in the simulation, thank you for giving me a chance to make up for it," and Ouma looks at the now suddenly very interesting floor. Momota, Harukawa and Saihara say nothing, for a while. "Hey, do you know what day it is today?" Saihara asks. "Uh.... no. I haven't really been paying attention to the calendar lately..." admits Ouma. The three in front of him share a glance. "Well, we don't know if it's you REAL one or not... but it is June 21st," Momota tells him. Suddenly the lights go out in the gym and change to a more purple color, streemers rain down from the ceiling and a few party poppers are heard, as suddenly the entire cast of the fifty third season stand around Ouma from nowhere with a large "Happy Birthday" from all of them. Ouma stares in shock as a large cake is brought into the newly placed center table, with sparklers and everything. Apparently, Shirogane pulled a few strings to make the cake one of the best on the world, because no one should have to miss three birthdays and not make up for it.

Ouma stares onward at the party, surprised that everyone cared so much. There's a large 21 in the center of the cake, light with flashy purple candles and the icing practically sparkled in the purple lowlight. He's never had a birthday party in either life going on in his head, so this new situation forces the two into a consent: how does one react in this situation because I don't know. He doesn't notice he's crying until the wet feeling runs down his cheek, someone passes him a Grape Panta and something just so natural feeling but so unfamiliar crosses his face. He doesn't know how, doesn't know why, it's just there, and it's not a lie.

A real smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be series of oneshots now, if anyone is wondering.


	3. Finding the Peices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma joins the workout crew.
> 
>  
> 
> A broken leader confronts the mastermind...

"Come on, put your back into it!"

Momota shouts, as Ouma struggled against the weight of the barbell set above him. Regardless the party, Momota was serious about him joining the workout crew. Unlike the simulation, there was a full set of training and work out equipment in the rec room of Danganronpa headquarters. Even when he had woken up, Momota, Saihara and Harukawa were all over the place, and it seemed to be a ritual, the way they went to the rec room for an hour every day. Now, Ouma was in on said ritual, and pumping weights with Momota being the coach. Despite the determined look on his face, Ouma was still facing a miserable inner turmoil. The Supreme Leader is constantly flooding his thoughts with ideas to prank everone here and ruin what they had going far longer than he's been awake just to see a reaction. Who he was is constantly degrading him, telling him that he doesn't deserve their second chance, that he should just quit, that he should take the barbell he's holding and drop it on his head... the fact that he's lying on his back with his shirt off and his muscles are burning doesn't help in the slightest.

Still, he manages to make due. The rush of adrenaline that was lacking the last time he felt like this was a nice distraction from all the crap that's been going on lately. He can focus on the rise and fall of his arms, because he can move them, and it doesn't sting when he breathes, he's allowed to catch his breath. He can take it slow for once in his life.... lives.... he hasn't decided yet. Eventually, he does take that break, putting the barbell on the rack and going to find a towel to wipe off a majority of the sweat he's drenched in. Momota waves him off with that grin of his, and Ouma gives a small smile back, feeling refreshed. Ever since he started joining Momota and the others for his personal physiotherapy, he has been able to remind himself he can get off the bench before the press comes down on him in his nightmares... once in a while. Other times, he can't stop it. Recently, he would get out from under the press and look back, still seeing his body on the machine despite being standing. Last night, the other Ouma turned to him and gave a demented smile before the press crushed him into bloody paste, leaving the Ouma that he was conscious in with a feeling of shock before waking up. He considered telling someone about it, but the therapist was too stupid to understand and the other classmates had their own problems, Ouma was probably the least of anyone's concern anyway.

All toweled off, Ouma put the casual purple shirt back on and tied the checkerboard scarf around his neck once again. He just didn't feel... complete without it. He walks out into the cafeteria to grab a snack before he retreats to his room. Ouma doesn't go to the cafeteria often, due to his brain associating it with where everyone gathers and he didn't like big crowds in either life, so yeah. He avoids it like the plague during meal times. He doesn't even know how he tolerates group therapy nonetheless, but hey, at least he has Saihara and the others backing him. Because they're technically discharged from the hospital and don't live at the facility, they don't need to eat at the cafeteria. Ouma walks over to the muffin rack, the muffin rack is always open, and attempts to scout out a chocolate chip one. He finds one and takes a bite of the top, claiming it as his, before walking away from the rack, bumping into someone on his way out.

"Hey, watch where you're going, you little shit!" Iruma growls down at him. The two parts of his mind begin to conflict for a reaction, as Iruma glares down at him. "Did you hear me, brat? Fucking apologize before I pound your face in!" Iruma shouted. Ouma took two steps back in response. "I....I...." he stuttered, not daring to make eye contact. He can't find the words to speak, so Iruma knocks him upside the head. "Fan favorite character, my ass. I bet they only like you for being a Komeada ripoff from the second season," Iruma spat. "And I thought they designed me to be the fan service character..." she huffed before walking out. Ouma looked down at his muffin dejectedly, and decided it was the last time he even bothered with the cafeteria.  
______________________________________________________________________________

It's late at night when he decides to do this. He doesn't want Saihara or the others catching him here, after all.

Looking at the name on the door affirms Saihara definitely should not catch him here, doing what he's about to do. Saihara would kill him. As tempting as it sounds, he still needs to talk to her, and see what can be done. Ouma doesn't mind sacrificing his sleep hours for this. He already was woken up again, by the nightmare, and the creepy grin on his own face before it gets crushed still flashes when he blinks. So, here he is now, hoping she has the same issues with sleep he is having. She may just be another employee of this place, but she was better than most of the other insensitive pricks running the show around here. So, he knocked on the door.

"Come in," her soft voice echos, all too quickly for someone that would be asleep. Ouma enters, and looks at the desheiveled mess that is Tsumugi Shirogane, the mastermind behind he fifty third season of Danganronpa. The one Ouma ultimately died trying to find the identity of. He hadn't even suspected her as much as the others when he was playing her game, playing the game of Danganronpa. Her blue hair is unkept and she looks like she hasn't slept in days, definitely not what a mastermind should look like, let alone a cosplayer. But, it was all just a game, and none of it was real anyway. That's not what he's here for. It would be hipocritical to hate Shirogane like everyone else, considering his amazing position in everyone's eyes right now. "Good evening, Ouma-kun, how can I help you?" She asked, a slight tremble in her voice. He walks over and sits beside her. "Couldn't sleep, could I? So, I decided to see how you were doing," he tells her, and she laughs bitterly. "Not even a threat, nothing to say about how awful I am? How I'm a monster?" She barks, she's heard it all before, and so has he. "No, just thought I'd stop by... birds of a feather stick together, don't they?" Ouma says. "What makes you think we're alike? We're different as different can be, Ouma-kun, and you should hate me like everone else does," Shirogane states, the sadness in her eyes overpowering the anger in her voice.

"Deny it all you want, Shirogane-san, but the truth is, we are in the same boat. They hated me longer than they hated you anyway," Ouma explains. "They hate me more," huffed the blue haired girl, looking to her lap. "They still hate us regardless, so I decided I'd break the cycle," Ouma decided. "You have a habit for that, don't you?" Shirogane points out. It's Ouma's turn to laugh bitterly. "Yeah, I guess I do..." he agrees. The two chat until the early hours of the morning, the sun peaking over the horizon when Ouma begins sneaking our of Shirogane's room. "You won't tell anyone about this right?" He whispers. "As long as you don't," she Mumbles back. "I promise not to tell anyone, including my beloved Saihara-chan," Ouma promises. "Yeah, especially him," Shirogane agrees. Ouma silently shuts the door, thinking over the conversation with Shirogane when the attendant arrives with breakfast, bacon and eggs arranged into a smiley face. He would probably visit Shirogane tommorow night as well, and the night after, growing into a secret, hidden ritual that only they knew about.

Birds of a feather stick together, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be honest, Ouma is the REAL fan service character here. It's like Komeada's personality mixed with Byakuya's talent and sucked the hope juice out of it before they stuffed it inside a genderbent Chiaki.
> 
> Don't worry Ouma bby, you're still one of my top three V3 husbandos.


	4. Putting Two and Two Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouma has another nightmare, and needs to find it in himself to confide in others.

He knows he's dreaming again, so he picks himself off the press.

Lucid nightmares like this were the worst. Ouma knows what he's seeing is a dream, isn't real, but he can't change them in the slightest. Getting off the press bench is the only variable he can alter in these nightmares, though that is due to Momota and crew's vigorous training regimens. He knows he's dreaming when he turns to face the press machine again, and finds a double of himself still laying under it. This was usually the part where the double would look at him before getting smushed, a creepy grin on its face. This time though...

"Nishishishi~ we'll be the best of friends forever, won't we?"

It stated darkly before the press came down on top of it, spraying sickly blood and guts all over the hanger. Ouma jolted awake, a cold shudder traveling down his back. The other figure had never spoken before... he contemplated it, a pit growing in his stomach. He was unnerved when it had first smiled back at him, but now it had spoken to him, and he didn't like it. So, he promptly got up from his bed and quietly walked out the door to go talk to the one person who would listen at this hour.  
___________________________________

"Shirogane-chan... do you get nightmares like that, where the memories Team Danganronpa put in you talk back at you?" He asked.

"Every night, Ouma-kun. Every night I stand in the trial room while a twisted version of me swaps costumes left and right, all of them shooting accusing glares, and it swaps back to me, before I get crushed by a rock," Shirogane explains. Ouma nods. "Good to know I'm not alone... do you think anyone else gets nightmares like that?" He asked. She sighed and shook her head. "As if they'd tell either of us if they did... no one wants to admit to it, or they simply don't get them. Either way, it is good to know I'm not the only one suffering those kinds of nightmares," Shirogane stated. "I hate what they turned me into... I hate that everyone likes what I turned into, I hate the fact that they love the Supreme Ruler, but would reject me. I hate it when people look at me with those accusing glares meant for the me in the simulation, not the me in real life, and I don't even know which I am anymore..." Ouma sighs. "Yeah, well at least the fans liked you as an asshole, recent reviews say people hated me as the Mastermind reveal. They thought I would make a better genuine killer," Tsumugi huffed. "Yeah, things aren't the best right now for either of us..." Ouma sighed.

"Hey.... Ouma-kun... they're going to move everyone who hasn't left already out of the hospital soon. I was wondering if... well... if you would come move out with me if no one else offers. I'm quitting Danganronpa for good when they release me," Shirogane offers. Ouma ponders this. The lazy nights spent with Shirogane weren't the worst, plus she was relatable and didn't have anything against him. "I guess I could, Shirogane-chan, as long as no one else offers. Even then, I'd still visit," Ouma decides. Something curls onto Shirogane's lips before she catches it in surprise. A smile, Ouma thinks, it was too quickly faded to see properly. Ouma finds himself flashing his own. The two then giggle, and soon begin laughing genuinely. The early hours of the morning creep in, but Ouma and Shirogane don't separate until noon.  
____________________________________

Ouma slowly locks the door with a "see you tommorow!" and a smile loose on his lips.

Is this what real, genuine friendship was like? Is it this feeling that drives Saihara and Momota so close together in and out of the game? It certainly isn't far enough to be considered a crush, heavens no, save that for Saihara-chan or Amami-chan (Ouma shuts the Supreme Ruler side of him up before it continues to rant his actual crushes in his head) but it was pleasant to be around Shirogane. They could empathize with each other, and Ouma hadn't felt as comfortable talking to someone as honestly as he did with Shirogane. Could they be best friends? He'd bring it up tommorow night. Ouma turned and bumped unto someone's chest. The smaller boy only had a glimpse of the familiar black fabric and somewhat thin looking body shape before his head snaps up to the face of the person he just bumped into leaving Shirogane's room.

Shuuichi Saihara.

Ever felt screwed before? Because Ouma was screwed, especially judging by the strained expression of rage on Saihara's face. Ouma had never seen him this mad before. "Saihara-chan...." Ouma muttered. "Ouma-kun..." Saihara practically growled back at him. They stared in silence. Ouma had heard how much Saihara hated Shirogane, but standing in his presence this moments made "with the fire from a thousand suns" seem like a massive understatement. Ouma wanted to avoid this situation. He knew he should have left when the sun began to rise, but now it was noon, and Saihara had technically walked in on their conversation. "I should have known you would betray me again," Saihara mutters bitterly. The words sting, they hurt so much, because Ouma would surely gotten away with his suicide long before he attempted it if Saihara hadn't visited when he did. The burning fire of hatred in his eyes and the cold ice of his voice causes Ouma to whimper pathetically. If there was something both sides of him could agree on, it's that they had an infatuation with Saihara. 

But now, Saihara had seen his secret meeting with Shirogane, and there was no hiding his anger. "You're off the workout team," he states bluntly. Ouma stutters, but his incomprehensible murmuring falls to the floor before he can form a cohesive thought. "Don't let me see you join us again. Not after... this," Shuuichi concluded. If looks could kill, Ouma would be burnt to ashes. Saihara storms off, loud footsteps echo down the hall, as Ouma stands heartbroken in front of Shirogane's door.

She opens it herself a moment later, and Ouma runs into her arms. Tears pinprick his eyes as he embraces her, and he begins to sob. She returns the embrace, bending down to his level, stroking his deep black hair that had just about lost all of the purple dye it had started with when he began working toward being on the show. The two most hated individuals stood in the hallway, Ouma's sobbing echoing through the Team Danganronpa building. "I'm sorry.... I'm so sorry..." Shirogane mutters into the crying boy's ear. Ouma continued to soak the ex-cosplayer's tarnished shirt with tears. They stand there for hours, uncaring to any witness who sees the sob fest in the hall, because Shirogane had begun crying as well. It was dinner time when Ouma had begun to sniffle, tears slowly stopping their constant flowing. He hiccuped a few times, Shirogane slowing her tears as well. She invited him back inside her room, and ordered two tubs of chocolate ice cream. Because her room also had a T.V, they decided to put on a movie. Shirogane continued to rub Ouma's back, as they sat in front of the television, shoveling ice cream into their mouths until the tubs were empty and they had sat through three whole movies.

Yeah, this is what having a best friend is like, Ouma guessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support, guys! This fic is bordering the edge of 1000 Hits and 100 Kudos when I wrote this chapter!! Thank you so much!


	5. Fitting Into Place

Ouma let out a sigh, another night, another nightmare.

This time, he was in the bathroom where he saved Momota's life temporarily and started the plan to break the killing game. This time though, he was in Momota's place on the ground, while a similar boy with an arrow visibly sticking out of his arm looked down on him. "You don't like me too much, do you?" The Supreme Ruler asked. Ouma stares over at him. "Yes, I'm talking to you," huffed the double wearing a very fitting straitjacket like outfit. Why? Because the Supreme Ruler was batshit crazy, that's why. Ouma took a shuffle back away from the illusion. "We just push others away, don't we?" Supreme continued anyway, "and the one time we reach out for help, THIS happens to us. Isn't that just cute?" Supreme plays with the cuff on his sleeve, that had a chord that would most likely attach to the buckle under the other sleeve, if one were to do up the straitjacket properly. Ouma takes another shuffle backwards.

"Well, this time... I want to strike a deal with you, since we're sharing the same head and all," Supreme mentions, electing to poke at the arrow in his arm next. Ouma can practically feel the searing pain it would cause, seeing as it was knocked during the initial tussling with Momota, before Maki entered and one look in her eyes before she pulled that crossbow trigger told Ouma it was... "It was all over the moment she came in the room," Supreme finished for Ouma. "Seriously, stop dwelling on a past that never actually happened and listen to me, okay?" Huffed the boy with the checkered scarf. Ouma noted he looked slightly older than the seventeen-year-old, perhaps due to how he was actually aging, the one that really existed. Supreme gave a huff. "Look, we aren't going to get anywhere with your loud thoughts drowning everything out, so quiet 'em," Supreme ordered. Ouma calmed his thoughts down.

"Now then... we share the same space, huh? I kinda just moved in an kicked you out for a bit, but now we share this place called 'our brain' and have to do a better job of taking care of it, huh?" Supreme decided. Ouma nodded along. "We don't want this place getting wrecked, because it's our brain, and that would be really bad. Sure, I might have knocked a few things over in here, but it's still in passable condition, since you've been cleaning it up a little," Supreme decided. Ouma blinked and they were in his hospital room and not the bathroom. It was crowded with Supreme around, but livable nonetheless. Though, there was a bit of a tarnished bedsheet on the ground, and the plastic vase had been knocked over and broken, the barred window was rusty and cracked, and the floor creaked when you so much as moved. "Yep, this place could use some elbow grease, but we will get it back into top shape in no time!" Supreme declared. "Besides, better looking than what it was before," huffed the boy quietly. For a split second, Ouma swore he saw a glass vase and a bed crushed under the broken floor, and the ceiling collapsed in many places. "Yep, this is definitely an improvement," commented Supreme. "Now then, our next best step would be to make peace with each other, huh?" The boy stated, turning to Ouma again. He shuffled in place a bit, not wanting to trust a liar, who did terrible things and was crazy through and through... but it would probably be for the best, so he extended his hand to shake...

Just so he didn't end up in a real straitjacket.  
_____________________________________________

Ouma gathers the last of his things, though there wasn't much to begin with.

He was moving out with Shirogane today, and had avoided everyone but her after the weeping session, because rumours tend to spread quickly in this group. His arms had healed by now, but the deep scars would forever be there. He consciously avoided Saihara hugging his uncle in the hall while heading to the blue haired girl in the corner with two bus tickets in her hands. Her parents also worked for Team Danganronpa, so she and Ouma would be moving out together, alone, as roommates in some fancy apartment complex. Everyone's adresses were given to everyone, but Ouma and Shirogane were not expecting anyone to come to them. The dark haired boy approached Shirogane and she handed him a bus ticket. "I'd be careful if I were you. You're the most popular character on a world renowned television show.... so just... be ready," Shirogane warned. Ouma nodded as he took the bus ticket in his hands.

They didn't even make it two steps onto the bus when someone pointed him out.

Soon, a whole bunch of strangers are crowding him, demanding he do things Supreme would be more fitting doing, but he decided to humour them nonetheless. So he's saying quotes, letting out chuckles in the "nishishi" fashion, ect. as the bus ride continued, and an exausted Ouma walks off the bus toward the apartment with Shirogane. "Why am I the fan favorite?" Ouma sighed dejectedly. She could only shrug as they approached the front desk. They checked into their apartment, receiving odd looks from everyone they passed until they reached the top floor of the building and into the room in the back. "Nice veiw, at least," Ouma commented as he looked out the window. It was a very tall building, so the horizon was pretty visable. Shirogane set up the television, turning it on to find the news is on. She stiffens when Saihara's voice comes through the speakers. Ouma flinches violently.

"Team Danganronpa forcefully altered our memories, making our consents to the show completely invalid," he stated forcefully. "Even if it was fake and all virtual reality, it still shook every member of the cast beyond complete repair. So no, I will not elect to having a fifty fourth season, or relate myself to Danganronpa at all after this. The show is terrible to its participants. They could at least hire a proper therapist," huffed the ex-detective. Ouma found himself agreeing with Saihara, despite the way he had broken his heart into little peices a while ago. He knew that Saihara would never feel for him what he felt for Saihara, inside or outside the show. Getting caught talking to Shirogane solidified that. Speaking of which, Shirogane had swapped the channels to an anime that was airing at the moment. Ouma had begun to unpack his small collection of items onto the pull-out couch, he agreed to having it, and worked his way into the kitchen for a snack. Shirogane joins him. "Chocolate ice cream?" He asks. "Chocolate ice cream," she agrees, and soon they have two bowls and are watching anime together. "So, out of curiosity... what do you ship with this show?" Ouma asked. Shirogane burst into a huge speach about what and why and how, Ouma electing to listen to the whole thing. "Hmm, good taste," he decided.

Supreme looked onward from behind Ouma's eyes. This had the potential to be intresting...


	6. Put Together/Split Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having a dictator in your head can be difficult.

When Ouma enters his dream, there is a noticeable change in the room.

Supreme is dusting off a portrait of Saihara, that now sits by the plastic flower vase. There's a single pink petal at the base of the picture frame, and it's slightly torn. "Great symbolism this place has, huh? A ripped petal for a broken heart, I bet you feel _crushed_ right now!" Supreme giggled, Ouma finding the double pun tasteless. The other turns to him. "Aww, don't be like that! I just wanted to have a bit of fun with you!" Whines the leader. "Stop being an ass and I'll think about humouring you," Ouma huffs in response. Supreme spits in his face before turning his back with a huff. "Fine. Be that way," he growls. The room fills with silence.

Ouma turns to the portrait again, Saihara looking oh so cute with his lashed eyes a deep golden glowing even if just a framed illusion he'll never see again. Seeing Saihara smile had become a rare occurrence, even when on the workout team with his closest friends. Ouma didn't want to forget the ex-detective's lighthearted, shy smile that could brighten even the darkest mood. Perhaps that was why it was framed here, a memory to keep of a time... a time of what? When he had a chance? Ouma would have to go further back to think of it like that. Supreme it out a long groan. "This is so booooorriiiiiing!!" He complains, tilting his head back in stead of turning around. Ouma glares in response. "What do you want me to do? Make some dream amusement park like some corny movie or something?" Huffed the real Ouma. "That's actually a good idea! Let me do it!" Supreme declares.

The next moment, and the two stood in an amusement park, holding paper cones with ridiculous amounts of grape flavored cotton candy spouting from them, an empty roller coaster set in front of them. Ouma stands in shock of this. "It's a dream, stupid! In our brain like this, the world of our imagination bends to our will! Isn't it great? We can do whatever we want until it's time to wake up!!" Supreme cheers, taking a big bite of cotton candy. "No rules apply to a world that doesn't follow reality, so let's live a lie for a little bit and escape!"

The rest of that night is filled with candy and rollercoasters.  
_______________________________________________________________________________

Light creeps up on Ouma's face, sunlight peeking through the apartment window. He flinches, groaning in protest to waking up, but his dreams had faded now, leaving only darkness under his eyelids. Slowly, violet eyes fluttered open, scanning the complex lazily, still half lidded. Ouma can almost taste the cotton candy from last night's dream, and now he craved some in reality since he had awoken. Lucky for him, a lazy eyed Shirogane is holding an invitation to Saihara's birthday party, being held today at an amusement park.

Ouma had forgotten it was September, let alone the seventh of the month. He felt a little ashamed he didn't even think of a nice present for Saihara. "Selfish, selfish, selfish...." he mutters to himself, groaning and putting a hand to his head. He was so focused on putting himself together, he forgot about everyone else. Shirogane looks over to him with concern in her spectacled eyes. "Are you alright, Ouma-kun?" She asks, the same concern in her tone. "Fine... headache...." Ouma mutters, pinching his brow. Shirogane retreats to find some pain killers, while Ouma finds himself re-reading the letter Shirogane received about the party. It was in the afternoon, so maybe Ouma could scrounge up something of a present for his crush, even if Saihara would reject his peace offering. It's still his birthday.

After downing the painkillers, he really did have a headache, Ouma gets dressed, bright purple shirt and checkerboard scarf tied neatly around his neck. Shirogane adorns a blue jacket over her white shirt, making sure to wear apropriate clothes for a fall day at the amusement park, a skirt wouldn't work on a rollercoaster. "What do you think I should get him? Would he like a gift from me?" Inquires the ex-dictator. "I don't know... perhaps he would appreciate it if you won him a prize from a stand?" Shirogane offers. Yes, the clowns who run the games at amusement park were a bunch of money grubbing cheaters, but perhaps this route could show Ouma's dedication to making peace with the other? It seemed like a plan, so Ouma nods along with Shirogane's sentament, a small smile gracing his lips.  
___________________________________________________

Turns out when circus freaks cheat you out of your money, they really cheat you out of it.

The two had arrived and gotten their day passes early, so Ouma decided to scan the game booths for the perfect gift to give Saihara. Eventually, he found a glimmering purple horse toy with a crown on its head, and it looked the size of Ouma from its position hanging on the big prize rack. Ouma childishly tugged Shirogane's arm when he saw it, seeing it as the perfect gift for his crush. So, he took a bunch of money, because he knew it would take a while, that's how carnival games worked, and began buckling down to get that horse toy. Hopefully Saihara likes plushies. Though, after about hour three of toy horse quest, Ouma was looking very exausted. "Do we have enough... to trade for it, yet?" He groans. The circus freak ponders a minute, give Ouma a good look over, and finally trades Ouma the horse plush for the other prizes, three hours and two hundred dollars later. Ouma's lucky he's a famous T.V character on days like these.

"Ok, let's hurry or we'll be late for the gift exchange!" Ouma declares, dragging Shirogane by the arm, large toy horse slung over the other, as the duo headed for the center tent. They are the last ones there, as Momota greets him with a smile. "Hey man, how have been since Shuuichi kicked you off?" Greets the chipper ex-astronaut. "You know, as good as I can be... did we miss the gift exchange?" Ouma asks. "Nope, just about to start! Great to see you two here!" Momota cheers happily, leading them to the exchange table. Ouma tentatively leaves the horse toy, now with a ribbon signed by Ouma on the table. He sees Saihara across the room, shuddering violently a moment before turning and walking away.

After the gift exchange, the rollercoasters open for the party goers, and Ouma leads Shirogane in the direction opposite to Saihara and his team. Saihara seems to be pointedly avoiding Akamatsu for some reason or another. As such, Ouma continued to move about the rides, enjoying grape cotton candy with Shirogane. It also became obvious people were avoiding them as well, but who could blame them? Everything was going smoothly anyway, at least until Shirogane pointed to a very interesting ride.

"The Blind Date Tunnel of Love!" She called it. Two people get in from opposing sides of that board there, and ride down in the dark together for a whole hour! You don't know who your partner is until you reach the end and the light comes back!" Shirogane explains, looking facinated by the ride. They stand in silence, admiring the contraption, until the ex-cosplayer smirked in Ouma's direction. "I dare you to ride it," she says in a mischievous tone. Ouma sputters on his cotton candy. "I'll get you a free prize if you do it," bargains Shirogane, her smirk growing into a wide grin. "Fine..." Ouma huffs, getting in line for an hour with a stranger.

He gets on the pink and frilly, heart decorated boat with a sigh, buckling in and making himself comfortable. The boat pushes off from the station, into a dark tunnel, and Ouma can't see shit. Clearly this is what they meant by Blind Date. He can barely catch the silloette of his own hand as the boat bobbed in place, waiting for a second passenger. Ouma waited a while, yawning and leaning his head back.

When he opens them again, he's in a bright canal, another boat beside him, floating along calm waters. He turns to his left and is met with the golden eyes of Saihara, a beautiful smile on his lips. "Kokichi, I thought you'd never wake up!" He calls, his voice as sweet as honey. And he called Ouma by his first name, with such elegance, like he's said it a million times with practiced tone. "Shuuichi-chan..." Ouma calls, looking the other boy in the eye, birds chirping in the background as the two boats knocked together lightly. Clearly, this moment was heaven, and Ouma didn't want it to go away, taking Saihara's hand and grasping it tightly, feeling his face warm. A moment passes, only a moment... and Saihara leans in for a kiss..."Ouma-kun...." he mutters, barely a whisper. "Shuuichi-chan... say my first name again...." Ouma calls lustfully, leaning yo him to accept his kiss.

"Ouma-kun, wake up!" The illusion calls, now entirely flustered. Ouma hears Supreme cackle.  
________________________________________________________________________

"Gaaaah!"

Ouma's eyes flutter open, and he's nearly knocked out of the boat, which was at the end of the track, and light had returned. He stablizes himself and locks worried eyes with his mystery partner. Saihara. Of course it's Saihara. And judging by the deep red blush on his face, Ouma was mumbling in his sleep... oh gosh he said Saihara's first name out loud! Ouma feels his face heat up as well as the ride comes to a halt at the end station. Shirogane gives a shocked look to Ouma when she sees Saihara in the other boat, both quick to leave as soon as humanly possible. "Th-Thanks for the ride... h-happy birthday Saihara-chan!!" Ouma calls back quickly, ignoring the other's flushed face turning from confusion to slight glare. 

"So... what do you want to do know?" Shirogane asks after apologizing profusely about the mishap at the blind date love tunnel. Ouma turns back to the amusement park, looking to Saihara and stifling another violent flinch in favor of a softer one, and the odd look Akamatsu is giving the two of them from her small group of friends. "I think... I want to go home and nap..." Ouma decides, looking at Shirogane with a pleading expression. Her eyes soften. "Yeah... we've had enough fun here, let's go..." she agrees.

Ouma looks forward to the nap, because the darkness of reality is crushing him, and he needs to leave it for a while. After all, no rules apply to a world that doesn't follow reality, so let's live a lie for a little bit and escape. 


End file.
